


lives are lived somewhere

by logictron



Series: harvester of light [8]
Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 20:50:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logictron/pseuds/logictron
Summary: Hannah and Amir go on a date. If only it were that simple.





	lives are lived somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Filling prompts makes it seem like I haven't written these two forever! :) Still working on prompts but took a short break to do this because it's been kicking around in my head for a while. There's one more planned part to this (though it'll not be included in the series itself for...reasons that I won't get into here) but I really love this verse so chances are I'll keep coming back to it. 
> 
> Anyway, this. Hannah and Amir go to the symphony. Which contains its fair share of triggers for them both.
> 
> Title from "Some Other Me" from _If/Then_ which is thematically appropriate here. Talk of Amir's sister's death, etc etc.

The invitation comes from Patricia, or else Hannah would assume it was an innocent gift. But two tickets to the National Symphony Orchestra are tucked into an envelope on her desk with a simple, "Have fun, P" scrawled in the commander's familiar scrawl. A challenge.

"How would you feel about going out?" she asks Amir, sliding her arms around his neck, pressing against him, seeking comfort from her own anxiety.

"Out where?" he asks, watching her expectantly, even as his arms circle her waist.

"Patricia gave us tickets to the NSO." She waits for his reaction, already cringing internally.

"Oh." Maybe he thinks he's doing a good job of hiding his trepidation, that she'll take his smile at face value, but Hannah knows better. The tricks in his bag are the same as the ones in her own.

"We don't have to go," she says,nuzzling his cheek, her fingers toying with his shirt collar.

"We should," he replies. "I want to."

And she knows better than to question that tone. He's decided.

It's a date.

**

Not one for backing down from challenges these days, Hannah digs a dress out of the back of her closet. It's strappy and mostly backless and she hasn't worn it since before Mexico.

She tries it on alone in the bathroom and refuses to look at her reflection until it's on and zipped. From the front, it's almost normal. She can mostly avoid looking at the scar on her neck. But she catches sight of her back in the mirror on the medicine cabinet and even knowing the scars are there, even living with them for over a year now, the sight still makes her stomach twist and her blood run cold. But Hannah knows it's in her head. She knows Amir finds her anything but unattractive. She's safe and she's loved and she's going to go on a date with her perfect boyfriend, looking like a million bucks. So she stares down her reflection for a solid minute, until the anxiety subsides and she can unzip the dress with a mostly steady hand. They can do this. Easy-peasy.

**

She puts the dress on again two days later, for real this time, with her hair curled and her make-up perfectly, painstakingly applied. And when she walks into the bedroom to find Amir fiddling with his tie, Hannah blushes at his reaction. She's expecting the awe, but the underlying hunger is something else. She shivers when he turns to face her, and it has nothing to do with being cold.

"Come here," he murmurs, the dark edge creeping into his voice, the one she knows he's wary of. The one she's definitely not.

He turns her to the mirror over the vanity and presses to her back as his hands slide over her hips, sure and more than a little possessive as his mouth finds her neck.

"So, you like the dress, then?" she asks, not quite managing the nonchalance she's aiming for.

"You are...absolutely stunning."

"You clean up nice yourself," Hannah murmurs, smiling at his reflection. She squeezes his wrists gently, searching his eyes for any indication that he's on edge. It's there, but just barely. "This is the last time I'll ask, but...you're sure you want to go? We can just as easily stay in."

"With you in that dress? What a waste." He smiles when she turns to actually look at him. "I"m fine. Won't know until we try, right?" He shrugs a little. At least, she thinks, he's not pretending.

"Okay." Hannah nods and reaches for his tie. "Let's fix this and then we can go."

**

The hall is huge and full of people. She's been here before, but it's been several years. That was before any of the things she's aware of right now mattered to her at all. Out of instinct, she reaches for her purse and checks her gun. Beside her, Amir reaches under his jacket and does the same. Hannah composes herself. Tonight is a challenge for her but it's not anything insurmountable. This is Amir's battle. They can't both be on edge.

"Come on." She slides her arm through his and leads him through the crowd, out the doors on the other side, onto the stone patio overlooking the Potomac and, beyond that, the rest of the city. "Better."

It's not a question, but he nods and joins her at the railing.

"I used to hate shows like this," he says. "Classical performances. For so long, they consumed seemingly all of my spare time. Our house never saw a moment of quiet. The music is a silly thing to miss. It's still there...here."

"I don't think it's silly at all. It's not her.It's different," Hannah says, doing her best not to look too surprised. Since his week in Beirut, he hasn't talked about any of this. They've talked about other things, but his sister had felt off-limits, somehow.

"Maybe so." Amir sighs and drops his head forward. Hannah barely resists the urge to rub the tension out of his neck and drag her fingers through his hair. He needs a wall here, and she's not about to dismantle it. "I was jealous of her, when we were younger. Everything else came so easy for me. And music...I can do that, too. But for Mazia, it was a gift. Effortless. Art. I never made my parents smile like that."

"She makes you smile, too," Hannah says, wondering if he even knows. From the look of surprise he gives her, apparently not. "I can tell when you're thinking of her."

"She'd like you," he says, kissing her cheek. "I wish you could've met."

"Me too," Hannah agrees, leaning into him. They stand there, watching the water, until it's time to go inside.

**

Everything is fine until they're in the garage after the show, walking to the car. A row over, a giant pick-up truck backfires and it's the first time Hannah's ever seen Amir rattled. He hides it immediately, but the person who gets into her passenger seat is not the same one she came here with. Still, Hannah knows better than to push him here. On the radio, she finds the news. It fills the silence and is safer than music. It's enough to get them home in one piece.

**

Amir disappears once they get home, and Hannah lets him. There are parts of him that are still too raw, that he keeps buried so deep, no one's ever seen them. And she's okay with that. SO they'll talk, but she's going to let him figure out what pieces he wants to show her.

She boils water, pacing around the kitchen and then doctoring his tea perfectly to his liking, which calms her. By the time the concoction is finished, Hannah feels settled enough to face whatever is waiting for her.

Inside the bedroom, Amir is just sitting on the edge of the bed, shoes off and tie undone, but nothing else. Hannah's chest aches.

 

The steaming mug of tea finds its way to the end table and Hannah puts her gun away before approaching him. She holds her hand out wordlessly and Amir just stares for a minute before finally relinquishing his own weapon. With that sorted, she hands him the tea, kissing his forehead.

"Drink. I'll be right back."

The dress ends up back in the closet, along with her shoes. She runs a bath, adding some lavender and chamomile bubble bath and lighting the candles along the window ledge. She twists her hair up, not thinking about her scars just now, and then returns to the bedroom and Amir, who hasn't moved a muscle.

"Let me help you?" she asks. Amir doesn't have the same kind of touch sensitivity that she does, but there's definitely one there. One that comes from not being touched enough. On the good days, that makes him really tactile, which Hannah loves. But she's not about to test how it works when he's triggered. Not without his permission.

He looks up at her, hollow and pained, and nods.

So, Hannah unbuttons his shirt, slow and methodical. Predictable,because it's what he needs right now. Once she's finished,she takes his hands and guides him to his feet. Amir seems to come back into himself a little, then. She kisses his cheek as she works open his belt, and then his pants, staying close, not letting him retreat again.

"I love you," she whispers."So much."

There are few things she knows, but that is definitely the most important. having him here with her has done nothing but prove that, again and again. It's why she's so intent on this, taking care of him, letting him know his secrets don't scare her.

The bathroom is warm and quiet. He lets her help him into the tub with no complaint.

"Move forward," she coaxes. That much seems to catch his attention and he looks up at her, uncertain. "Okay?"

After a long second, he complies and Hannah slips into the tub behind him, tugging gently at his shoulders until he settles against her stiffly.

"It's just me, my love. I'm right here." Hannah kissed his neck, running her hands over his arms and his shoulders and his chest. Doing what they do, she knows better than to tell him it's okay. It's not. But she can be there for him all the same.

"I wasn't there for her. My own sister. To keep her safe. I wasn't there and she died. Because of me."

She knows all of it, the story from start to finish. He'd finally told her, his first night in Lebanon. Every excruciating detail had been laid out, piece by piece, while Hannah lay alone in her bed half a world away, bearing witness to the grief and the pain and the guilt. But Hannah will gladly listen to it a million more times. However many times he wants to tell her--needs to tell her.

"She died because a terrorist bombed a bus full of innocent people. It's not your fault. It's not. There's no way you could've known. You were just a kid." She'll tell him that as often as he needs to hear it, too.

"She should be here."

"She should," Hannah murmurs against his ear, her arms sliding around his middle. Some of the tension flows out of him, but not enough. "But think...how many other people go home to their families every night because of you. Maybe I never met her, but you can't tell me Mazia wouldn't be proud of her big brother for all the good you've done."

"I miss her," Amir says, simply,the weight of his words settling in Hannah's chest so she has to remind herself to keep breathing. "Some days, I'd pick her over all of them."

The guilt in his voice is enough to shatter Hannah's heart. There are so many things he's not saying, but she knows. Without Mazia's death, they wouldn't be here. Today, he'd trade what is for what could be.

"Listen to me." She holds him tighter, closes her eyes against the threat of tears, swallows against the tightness in her throat. "You get to miss her. You get to wish things were different. You can wish that every single day. That's okay. I will never, ever fault you for that. I love you...more than I've ever loved anyone. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. But if you think you're the only one who wakes up some days and doesn't think about things being different...you're wrong."

The battle to hold back her tears is lost when Amir's chest hitches. His shoulders shudder against her, a hollow sob echoing around them. There's nothing to be said, no combination of words will make this better. So Hannah just holds him, her own tears slipping from her cheeks onto his skin. They stay like that for a long time. Long enough the water grows cold. Long enough Hannah's legs are stiff. But she barely notices.

"I love you too. I hope you know that," Amir says finally. Despite the heaviness of everything, Hannah smiles.

"I do." She kisses his shoulder, tasting the salt from her tears. His hand skims her arm and then stills.

"You're cold."

There are goosebumps across her skin she hasn't even noticed, and she's shivering slightly.

"Guess so."

Amir stands and reaches for a towel before holding his hand out to her. With them face to face again, Hannah can't resist kissing him softly as he wraps the towel around her.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against her mouth.

"For what, my love?"

"Ruining our date, not taking advantage of you in that dress," Amir says, but he's grinning, she can feel it.

"I think I can forgive you," she laughs. "Let's go to bed."

He lifts her clear off her feet and carries her there. Hannah falls asleep wrapped up in him and doesn't move until morning.


End file.
